


Nulle

by manhattan



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied Torture, Kink Meme, Minor Character Death, Spoilers, seriously there are fucking spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manhattan/pseuds/manhattan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the DR kink meme: “AU, Naegi is the mastermind. Either someone finds out or the murders continue until only he and one other person remain. Torture ensues.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nulle

After Sakura’s suicide, there are no deaths for a long, long time. They all think: this is it, no one will die after this, all that’s left now is figuring out how to defeat Monobear. The days turn into weeks and Kirigiri patrols the school every day, searching for something, anything. She memorizes everything, like which doors screech when opened, or like the number of screws on each window. She draws a map of the school and hypothesizes about architectural weak points. She figures out the quickest way to walk through every single room.  

One early morning, she finds Togami pinned to the wall of the library. A pair of bloody scissors glows in the pallid light, by his feet.

* * *

The trial is tragic.

Syo kills not only Togami but also Fukawa, and Kirigiri feels hollow as she lays down the facts. Not that she needs to – even Hagakure knows that the only person who would kill someone else after Sakura’s selflessness would be Syo, the only born killer inside the school. Kirigiri wonders if Syo is aware of it, and then remembers the two personalities don’t share memories. She tells herself that’s why Syo does it. She’s not sure, though.

“It wasn’t me,” Fukawa pleads, even as Monobear drags her towards her death. “It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me,  _please_ , it wasn’t me—“

Asahina cries. Hagakure looks sick. Naegi … Naegi is a blank. Kirigiri wonders if he’s finally broken.

* * *

Togami’s absence hits hard. Without Togami, Kirigiri feels like her wit withers increasingly. Neither Asahina nor Hagakure offer the sort of intelligence she needs to train her brain, and Naegi only argues during trials. She doesn’t want to get into a discussion with him just because the ennui is getting to her. Besides, she notices the bags under his tired eyes, notices how his expressions have lost their glow, notices how Naegi keeps to himself.

When have we stopped communicating, Kirigiri asks herself.

* * *

Days go by and Monobear decides that he is bored with their lack of activity.

“Okay, how about this,” the robot says, enthusiastic, “the first person to kill another will automatically graduate! You won’t even have a trial!”

Hagakure is crying when Kirigiri and Naegi find him, sitting next to Asahina and a box of donuts. She looks like she’s sleeping.

“I poisoned her,” he says, voice tight. His eyes don’t leave the floor. Kirigiri would have never thought him to be capable of murder. Her stomach wraps around itself. “I gave her poisoned donuts. She trusted me and I gave her poison. I killed her. I killed Asahina. I’m sorry. I need to get out of here. Please. I’m sorry.”

Monobear arrives with an exuberant laughter, hiding his smile behind his paws: “Whaaaat? You thought I was serious?”

Hagakure does not yell or cry or laugh – or anything. He can’t, Kirigiri realizes. He’s too worn out.

* * *

“I need to tell you something,” Naegi says, expressionless. Kirigiri hasn’t seen him smile in weeks. She misses him, the old him, the boy who tirelessly ran around, searching for proof, believing in people,  _saving_  them. She pushes the thought out of her mind and focuses on him.

“Go ahead,” she replies, bland. Nowadays, she’s always so tired, even though she sleeps so much. How are they supposed to play Monobear’s game by themselves? Does Naegi think she will kill him? Does he think she could do it, if she wanted to? She certainly knows a lot of ways to kill a person, for a high school student. She wonders why.

“I’m the mastermind,” Naegi says, offering her a smile that is as sharp as it is sweet.

* * *

She considers suicide and then denies herself. Knowing him, he probably wouldn’t let her. And she hasn’t given up yet.

“You always were my favorite,” he tells her, cupping her face with a gloved hand. Red looks good on him and she hates herself for thinking so. “Always so bright and perceptive. Always so morally correct. I’m glad you were the only one who survived.”

She hasn’t spoken since the revelation. It’s the only way she can punish him. Naegi might make her do lots of things, but he will never be able to make her talk. He does not deserve to hear her words, her thoughts.  _I thought I could trust you_ , she thinks, keeping her face passive even though she feels aggressive.  _I trusted you. I_ trusted _you_. Naegi’s thumb presses into her mouth.

“Why don’t you speak, Kyouko?” He narrows his eyes. She wonders how someone so small can look so threatening. “Are you mad at me?”

She wants to spit at him. She wants to kill him. Naegi sighs, shrugging, and then takes away his hand. She almost breathes in relief.

“We’re going to live here forever. You can’t hate me. I’m your only friend.”

 _I trusted you_ , she repeats, over and over and over.

* * *

Some nights, Naegi decides the humiliation of betraying her is not enough. Some nights, he leans back on his throne, looking smug and oppressive, and runs his fingers through her hair. She doesn’t cry, doesn’t yell at him, doesn’t – anything. She’s already learned how to push his buttons, how to swallow when his voice hitches, how to look up at him when his hips twitch. She likes seeing him like that, at her mercy. For once.

“I love you,” Naegi says, wiping her mouth with his sleeve. She averts her eyes, expression unchanging. His fingers press into her neck, digging into her skin, and she closes her eyes, expecting something like death. Something like an end.

Naegi leans over, kneeling in front of her, abandoning his throne, and then kisses her, unbuttoning her shirt. It’s the first time he’s ever made any kind of advance towards her – the oral sex doesn’t count, Kirigiri knows, because he’s never once requested it. She gives it to him willingly, because it’s the only time she gets to see him afflicted by  _her_. Naegi must know, too. She wonders if it’s just a way to keep her from breaking.

“Kyouko,” he calls, biting at her neck. Her skin feels warm. She wonders if he’s broken it. She wonders if she’s bleeding. His hands abandon her ribs and palm her ass, bringing her closer to him. “I love you.” He grabs her unresponsive hands, presses a kiss against her knuckles. She hates him for it. He always focuses on her hands, on her scars; he doesn’t allow her to wear gloves. When he lets go they drop into her lap. He grabs her ankle, neatly placing her shoe on the floor, and then places himself between her legs. He’s already hard.

Kirigiri looks at the ceiling and attempts to recite the periodic table in her head.

It’s over fast, something quick and dirty and not as numb as she would’ve liked; Naegi looks at her like he wants to marry her, like he wants to be with her forever, and she guesses she’s still in love with the boy she thought he was. It hurts.

“I did it all for you,” he whispers, into her ear, his voice sweet and breathy, and Kirigiri tenses, biting her lip soundlessly as she comes, curling her toes, closing her eyes (hating herself).

* * *

She gets scars. More scars. Naegi gets bored easily, and she is his favorite toy. Sometimes he uses a scalpel, smuggled from the nurse’s office, but sometimes he just wants to see her think that she’s actually going to die. Those days are the worst ones. She can deal with his methodic little psychotic cuts, but when Naegi straddles her, his fingers tight around her throat – and Kirigiri starts blacking out, Kirigiri thinks  _finally_   _I am free_  – she thinks, at the peak of breathlessness, that she is going to die.

And then he backs off, allowing her to breathe.

 _You’re more cruel than I thought you’d ever be_ , she always thinks, taking in loud, choking breaths. Her eyes are watery, and her throat is burning, but she doesn’t fucking react. Naegi looks disappointed every time this happens, and she wants to scoff at him.  _Why do you do the same thing expecting different results each time?_

“It’s okay,” he says, pressing a kiss against the top of her head, “I have forever to figure out how to bring you despair.”

“I hate you,” she breathes. It’s the first thing she’s said to him since the reveal. It’s been months. Maybe. She can’t tell.

Naegi looks at her abruptly, eyes wide, mouth open in a glorious smile: “Kyouko, you talked!”

This probably means she’s finally lost. 


End file.
